


Happy Sparkday, Mister Tactician

by CommanderSideswipe



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Birthday Sex, M/M, Slash, Smut, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:34:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8830591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommanderSideswipe/pseuds/CommanderSideswipe
Summary: How Prowl and Jazz celebrate Prowl's Sparkday--the best way they know how!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shinska](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinska/gifts).



> Yet another birthday gift for my beloved Shinska~. Of one of our favorite couples

Prowl rubbed an optic while shuffling into his office. For once, he had recharged in his quarters while Jazz was on a mission, but he was still a bit sleepy. His servo fell upon a datapad on the desk that he didn't remember putting there last night, and recharge-bleared optics zoomed in on it.

Emblazoned in blue were the words "look up".

Prowl slowly craned his helm up, a carelessly-dangling string of confetti dangling down. He ex-vented a heavy sigh, pressing his lips into a thin line, reaching up to grasp the offending string of confetti. What, had Jazz thrown a pre-mission party in his office or something? However, when he tugged, more confetti, thinner, fluttered down, alongside a handmade card that read "Happy Sparkday, Prowler!" 

From most mecha, that would have elicited a roar of rage. From Jazz, it elicited a small chuckle, just in time for the gifter to step into the office. Prowl turned around, his optics locking onto the neon blue visor. A small smile still graced the serious Praxian's face, but his wings were lifted in that calm, joyful manner. Jazz sidled into the office, closing the door behind him.

"Like it, Prowler?" He winked. "I knew you'd wanna tug dangling confetti if you saw it, so it was the perfect set up for confetti and a card. Giving me just enough time to slip in with my gift to you."

"Oh, and what would that be?" Prowl cocked an optical ridge.

Jazz gave a playful wink behind his visor, sticking a bow on his left sensor horn with his left hand. "You have a gift you can do whatever you want with."

Prowl blushed for a moment, then pressed a deep kiss into Jazz. It was well-known among only Special Operations and the Command Staff that Prowl and Jazz were already bonded, having bonded before they left Cybertron. Prowl's slender digits slid up to fondle Jazz's sensor horns, his icy blue optics locking on what lay beyond the neon blue visor--Jazz's sky-blue optics.

"I had forgotten I wasn't on schedule today." Prowl purred. "But my office is quite private and..." He ran a digit along Jazz's jaw. "We're both in here."

Jazz carefully retracted the visor, hooding his optics warmly. "Don't mind that the office isn't completely soundproofed?"

"Why should I be ashamed of making love to my own mate?" Prowl rumbled. "I know most of the Autobots don't know yet but...I'm not afraid for them to find out either." He stroked Jazz's cheek.

Jazz grinned. "Then make me scream your name, Prowler. Spike me hard, sparkday boy."

Prowl pressed Jazz into the wall, grinding against him with a rumble and a purr. He licked and suckled along Jazz's neck, his left hand fondling the right sensor horn. Jazz trilled, letting his valve open, the scent of the lubricants filling the air. Prowl grinned, his spike pressurizing; he made a quick motion to spear into his mate's valve, hooking his arms under Jazz's legs while keeping him pressed against the wall.

"One of my favorite ways." Prowl rumbled. He started rocking hard, gripping tightly enough to leave slight dents in the plating of Jazz's legs. He let himself exvent from the oral intake-output, the warm "breath" cascading over Jazz's frame. The Polyhexian shivered and keened, enjoying the barest hints of breathplay. Prowl knew some of his favorite tame kinks and ran with them.

"That's right, keep goin--unh! That's right Prowler..." Jazz whispered seductively. He arched himself into Prowl, his servos gripping his mate's hips and wrapping his legs tighter against Prowl's lower back. "PROWLER!" 

Prowl panted hard, shivering and arching deeper, pistoning tight into Jazz. The charge building was becoming more than they could handle. Prowl arched hard and deep into Jazz once more, crying out, his optics flickering with the release of charge and transfluid. Jazz screamed out, crying Prowl's name.

In the afterglow of the overload, Prowl panted, the scent of the sticky fluids still aglow on them. "Thanks for the perfect gift, Jazz."


End file.
